A Piece of Jack
by Mindy35
Summary: Jac/Liz. Liz leaves 30 Rock.
1. Chapter 1

Title: A Piece of Jack

Author: Mindy

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Characters and lyrics are not mine and are used without permission. No moolah made.

Spoilers: "Problem Solvers", "Dealbreakers Talk Show 0001"

For: hamnapkin

Prompt: new job

Pairing: Jack/Liz always

Summary: The beginning of the end.

"_Because we belong together now,_

_Forever united here, somehow,_

_You've got a piece of me, and honestly,_

_My life would suck without you…"_

I.

He's standing behind his desk, leafing through some papers when she enters, coffee in hand and a spring in her step. Before she can even emit her usual 'Good Morning, Jack', he opens with: "When were you going to tell me about your job offer?"

Her steps slow. "How'd you find out about that?"

"You should've known I would," he remarks, without looking up. "Are you going to accept?"

Liz takes a few more steps towards his desk, but doesn't close the gap entirely. "I…hadn't decided."

"I see." Jack removes his glasses and sets them down. "And did you plan on discussing it with me first?"

She hesitates. "Should I have?"

He gives her a quick once-over before returning his gaze to his work. "Well, you generally harass me with the mind-numbing minutiae of your every, insignificant decision, I don't see why you shouldn't want my opinion on this as well."

Liz frowns. "Maybe I wanted to make up my own mind."

"And have you?"

"No. Like I said – I haven't decided yet. I'm…still thinking."

"So…" He lets the papers drop, moving round his desk to lean against the front of it. "You are considering accepting the offer then?"

She opens and shuts her mouth a few times. "Is there any reason I shouldn't?"

"You tell me," he replies, head cocked.

She takes a breath. "Well. The money is good."

"Better than I can pay you."

"And the people seem nice."

"They were very impressed by you, it seems."

She tips her coffee cup at him. "And you said yourself that _TGS_ has a limited shelf-life. It's not really _my_ show anymore. And I'm sure they'd get by without me."

"Yes, the show would do fine," Jack says with complete confidence. "There's any number of people in this city who could step in and do your job. Possibly better than you currently do it and without the need for my incessant hand-holding."

"Right," she mutters, biting back some irritation. "And after _Dealbreakers_ not panning out, I need to think about what I want to do, where to go next. Isn't that what you're always telling me? Think ahead?"

Jack nods, clearing his throat. "It's sound advice. Somehow -- I'm not sure how exactly -- you've managed to ascend to a, to some, rather enviable position in your career largely by accident. But you cannot leave everything to chance."

She shifts on the spot. "You're saying I should take the job then?"

He finally meets her eyes for more than a moment, gaze steely. "Are you asking my opinion as a friend? Or as your boss? For the present at least."

Liz knits her brow, sighing in confusion. "Are you pissed at me? For meeting with these people? Because they came to me, you know, I didn't go looking for them."

"I am not pissed," Jack states.

"Really."

"No."

"You're not pissed at all?" she presses, tone turning sharper: "You're not pissed that they offered me a job that is exciting and well-paid and might make my life a whole lot better? You're not pissed that they offered me something I might be really good at and that you could not offer me?"

His spine stiffens. "I am not."

She pauses a moment. Then points out: "Because you look pretty pissed."

"That," he tells her: "is down to your stunning inability to read men."

She rolls her eyes: "Of course..." Then narrows them at him: "Because if you were pissed about me…what, leaving? Or…not talking to you about it? You would just come right out and say it, right?"

"I am very direct by nature."

"You wouldn't waste time beating about the bush and answering questions with questions and being all passive aggressive in my face."

"What are you implying?" Jack responds, blue eyes impervious.

"Jack…" Liz looks down, sighs. And when she meets his eyes again, all tension or fight or irritation has gone. She looks at her friend with soft regret and unspoken understanding. And something occurs in that small, lingering moment. She sees it in him. He sees it in her. An intangible shift. A simultaneous surrender. A comprehension that perhaps was always there but never fully utilised.

"I'll let you know what I decide," she says after a moment. "You'll be the first. Okay?"

Jack says nothing. He doesn't agree or argue. He just watches her turn and head for the door. Then tells her retreating back: "Of course you realize I can't do without you."

Liz turns back, facing him with an expression of slowly dawning surprise. And no words.

He takes a step closer, standing straighter. "The show will be just fine," he adds, his customary eloquence faltering slightly: "But I…would not…be."

"Jack." She steps back towards him. "We'll still be friends."

He's silent a moment. "Will we?"

"Sure, always." She laughs softly, voice brimming with usually hidden affection as she asks: "What, d'you think you were gonna get to boss me round for the rest of my days?"

He can't help a faint, bittersweet smile. "I'd hoped so, yes."

Liz takes a breath, her smile fading. "This is a really good opportunity for me, Jack. I want you to be happy for me."

"Then I will be," he replies resolutely: "If it's what you want. If it's what you decide."

She nods a few times then turns, silently heading for the door.

"You'll miss me too, you know," Jack murmurs, making her stop again. "…If you go."

One hand on the doorknob, Liz looks down. She takes a breath then lifts her eyes to his face. "I know."

_TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

Title: A Piece of Jack

Author: Mindy

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: not mine

Spoilers: "Dealbreakers Talk Show 001"

For: hamnapkin

Prompt: new job

Pairing: Jack/Liz always

Summary: The beginning of the end.

II.

Her office is a disaster. But for once, Liz has a good excuse. Jack surveys the chaos from the threshold, his eyes inspecting the cardboard boxes and screwed up balls of newspaper and the remnants of seven years of intensive and for the most part, successful work life.

"So…" he muses, alerting her to his presence: "Lemon no longer numbers among my employees."

Liz turns, her hair in a messy ponytail and her clothes covered in dust. "As of--" she glances at her wristwatch: "one hour and twenty-three minutes, that is correct. You will no longer be my boss."

He steps inside, over a pile of trash. "I will try to contain my staggering grief."

"You do that," she mutters with a small smile.

"I just wanted to come by and ah…" He picks up a Writer's Guild of America Award that rests atop a packed box on the couch, weighing it in his hand for a moment.

"Say goodbye?" Liz asks.

Jack looks up, putting down the award. "Wish you luck."

"Ah..." She nods a few times, studying him in the low light. Then she turns abruptly, starting to swathe all her little knick-knacks in bubble-wrap.

Jack shuffles about the room which feels larger now that's it's half empty, picking through the rubble. He spots her Slanket rolled up and stuffed into a canvas bag, a few more awards casually tossed into boxes with the framed print of her and Jenna's long ago two-woman play and the gender-blind _The Crucible_ program he gave her one Christmas. On top of a pile of scripts and clippings, the fate of which seems to be in the balance, there is a handful of photographs that catches his eye.

The top one is of Liz and Jenna hugging at a party. Jenna's smile is wide and bright as she clutches her friend for the ca-meh-rah. Liz's smile is not so bright, her body language more shy. Jack flips over to the next photo, obviously from the same night in which Liz is being squashed on either side by Tracy and Jenna who seem to be simultaneously engaged in a good-natured argument.

Jack holds up the photo for Liz to see. "When was this?"

"It was that night," she replies, squinting at it: "That party."

"Very helpful," Jack comments.

"You know…the hundredth show," she reminds him, then continues wrapping.

"Of course," he murmurs, flicking through a few more photos of the writers in party hats and various states of undress. "I remember..."

"I can tell."

"Well, I didn't say I remembered it well," he says, flicking to the next image. In it, he is there, standing with a drink in hand and a loopy smile and a blonde at his side. The face looks vaguely familiar but her name escapes him. "Who's this?" he asks Liz, holding it up.

She shrugs, glancing at it in passing. "I dunno. Some lady you had the hots for, for like a week."

Jack humphs and keeps flicking through. The next photo is of him and Liz on the same night, bodies either side of them as they are crammed into a brown leather booth. The table in front of them is littered with tall glasses with colourful straws and umbrellas sticking out of them. Liz is cradling one such drink to her chest as she leans back against the leather, eyes cast up toward his face with a secretive, sardonic air. Jack, his arm stretched out over the back of the booth behind her, leans across her, obviously carrying on a very animated discussion with someone opposite.

When he wordlessly holds this one up for her, Liz just snorts and mutters: "God, you were drunk."

"Which explains why I don't remember," he points out.

Jack tucks this photo behind the others. The next one has them in the same position. But this time, Liz looks smug, like she's just uttered something slick and devastating under her breath. He is hunched over, head bowed and features screwed up in the first phase of astonished laughter. There is another after this, a third of the two of them, where they're both looking at each other but leaning away from each other, which only seems to exemplify how close they are sitting in the first two photos as well as the intimacy of their expressions. Liz is biting her straw, eyebrows half-raised and head tilted. He appears to be mirroring this look with a tiny, knowing smile. No one around them seems to be in on whatever joke they are sharing.

Jack studies this one for a moment, then shifts his gaze to Liz who is pulling black and white prints off the wall behind her desk. While her back is turned, he pockets the last image before moving over to help her. He reaches up over her head, bringing down the highest frame and laying it carefully with the others on her cleared desk.

"Hey…Jack?" Liz turns to him, dusting off her hands. She doesn't meet his eyes, her voice hesitant as she asks: "You're okay with everything, right? I mean…we're cool. Right?"

Jack pulls her chair out and drops down into it. "Why do you ask?"

She shoots him a blatantly suspicious look. "Look, I played with Business Jack once before, and…I'm not sure I want to do it again. So if you're planning on--"

"I don't plan on doing a thing," he assures her: "Except wish you luck and send you on your way." He looks up at her a moment, a pensive smile stretching his lips. "It's been a pleasure having you under me, Lemon. And come October, I will be the first one tuning in."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh brother, do not even mention October to me right now."

"You'll do fine," Jack says.

"Oh yeah?" she mutters: "Say it like you mean it."

He rises, stepping closer. "You'll be fine, Lemon. Trust me. You'll be more than fine."

She gives him a smile, a closed-lipped, fond-eyed, slightly dopey sort of a smile. "Thanks Jack. I mean it. For everything."

"Well…" he nods a few times, momentarily lost for words. "Well, how about dinner? On your last night? Just you and me?"

"I'd love to," she says, but then her eyes drift away from him, around the dark, cluttered office. "But I've gotta be out of here tonight. My replacement starts in the morning."

"Of course." He ducks his head, taking a step back. "Your replacement."

She shrugs a shoulder, offering tentatively: "But I was gonna order Chinese…Wanna stick around and help me out for awhile?"

Jack purses his lips together. "Only if you promise not to steal my egg rolls."

She tuts ruefully. "Can't promise that, Jack."

"Well," he says with a grim nod: "we'd better order extra then."

"I think it would be best," she agrees: "To avoid any unpleasantness."

Jack smirks and starts to roll up his sleeves. "So…where do you want me?"

_TBC…_


	3. Chapter 3

Title: A Piece of Jack

Author: Mindy

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: See part one for rest

III.

He's there for her. No other reason.

Jack receives dozens of invitations to similar such industry dos in a week. But not all come with a hand-written note from Liz Lemon. This one did. Which is why he's there. To see her, to support her, to congratulate her. Not that he didn't predict she would be a success post-_TGS_, because he did. He just didn't predict how big a smash Liz Lemon would become. That her name would be on the tongues of all of New York and many beyond. That she would score a second and third cover with Time Out magazine and that, during awards season, press would be calling his office, asking for quotes about her.

It's not that Jack hasn't seen her since that last night at 30 Rock either. When they devoured noodles in the wee small hours of the morning with their feet propped up on her emptied desk and their laughter bouncing off the bare walls. Because he has. He's seen her a few times. And every time, she's been exactly as he remembered her. Maybe even better, brighter, more of what she already was. Success has brought out the best in her, as he always suspected it might. They still talk on the phone too, though not as regularly. The calls may last a matter of seconds and cover absolutely nothing or they may last hours and cover absolutely everything.

But even so, Jack misses her. In a way that is partly inexplicable. Almost like losing an appendage he didn't know he possessed. Or misplacing a significant chunk of his memory. Or his guiding conscience. Like being separated from an intrinsic piece of himself. A piece he wasn't aware he'd given away until it was all of a sudden gone.

The last time he saw Liz, he literally bumped right into her on a crowded New York corner. And he loved seeing the way her eyes lit-up to their absolute brightest at the sight of him. Loved hearing her voice gasp his name in surprise and delight. Loved the way she didn't – couldn't -- stop herself from flinging her arms around him, however fleeting and awkward the gesture was. They'd both been on their way to meetings at opposite ends of the city and they'd exchanged a few cursory catch-ups, stuttering over each other and promising to meet for dinner soon. But they never did find the time.

Which is why he's here. One of the reasons. And why Jack barely registers the other bodies inhabiting the crowded, glittering room. The women in sequins. The waiters with trays. The power couples preening. They are all mere obstacles. His eyes are peeled, ears primed for the slightest clue as to her whereabouts. He hears her before her sees her, his ears picking up on her distinctive laugh. And when he turns, his eyes identify her figure immediately, the fall of her hair, the slump of her shoulders, the curve of her bottom, encased in a clingy, deep red.

His lips twitch with an involuntary smile as he sidles closer, slipping easily through the chattering throng. Catching her mid-sentence, Jack leans in to drawl a low: "Lemon?"

He sees her react to his voice in her ear, his presence behind her, a tiny shudder running down her spine. And the same unrestrained joy he remembers from their last encounter is in her eyes when she turns and meets his gaze. Her arms lift as if to hug him but this time she restrains herself, instead settling for slugging his arm affectionately, though again, somewhat awkwardly.

"Jack!" she beams. "You came!"

Jack beams back, rocking on his heels. "Of course. I wouldn't miss this." He clears his throat, becoming aware of the curious looks on the faces surrounding them. "I mentored this woman for years," he tells them with a winning grin: "I made her who she is today."

Liz just smiles and grabs his arm, pulling him into the circle and introducing him to her new team. He shakes hands with a petite woman with tight red curls who remarks slyly that she's heard alot about him. Jack smiles, telling her it's all true. He is introduced to a blond giant who instantly launches into a pitch for a new reality show he swears would be perfect for NBC. Jack nods politely and shakes his hand.

Lastly, Liz introduces him to a lanky, sour looking fellow called Brendan whose beady eyes narrow at the hand Jack holds out before limply shaking it. His eyes narrow further at the way Liz is hanging onto his arm, her body leaning into his. Moving closer to her, Brendan whispers in a confidential voice that they have important people to meet and must circulate. Jack smirks silently, seeing no need to point out to the other 'man' how important he is -- either in this room, or to Liz Lemon.

He merely darts him a lethal look and leans into Liz's ear again. "Ah. Would you mind if we--?"

"I wouldn't, no," she answers with a tight shake of her head.

Liz's team all cock their heads in simultaneous, undisguised interest as the two of them start to slowly back away.

Jack takes her elbow. "We have a few things--"

"We do," Liz nods importantly. "To discuss."

"Important things," he says.

"Business things," she adds.

"It'll only take--" he looks at her.

She shrugs. "A minute."

"So we'll just--"

"Do that--"

"And be back--"

"In a minute."

"Or so."

"Yeah. So..."

She nods a few times under her friends' scrutiny. And her team continues to stare, eyes flicking back and forth between their faces. Jack shuffles on the spot. Then, as if by unspoken agreement, he and Liz both abruptly turn and head for the nearest door.

"Who's _Brendan_?" he asks as he trails her through the sea of pretty, partying people. "You've never mentioned him."

"My assistant," she replies over her shoulder. "He can be a bit…possessive."

Jack humphs. "I noticed."

"He's not so bad," she adds, dropping her half-eaten fingerfood on a passing tray. "Once you get to know him."

He frowns behind her back. "You're not…_with_ him, are you?"

Liz pushes through a set of double doors onto a small stone terrace where the air is quiet and warm. "God, no. Are you kidding me?"

Jack follows, one step behind. "Are you with anyone?"

"Uh-uh." She starts to turn: "How about--"

And then he's kissing her. His mouth is on hers, and there's breath and heat and awkward hands. He doesn't quite know how it happens or why it happens just then, and doubtless neither does she. He doesn't recall deciding to make the move, but it is after all what he came to do. He doesn't know where his hands actually land on her body but they do. He isn't really aware of the exact physics of how his mouth joins with hers. He's only aware of the sense of relief and urgency and completion when it finally, finally does.

The only thing he really knows in that moment is that he's missed the sight of every feature on her silly, gorgeous face. He's even missed the glasses she isn't wearing. He's missed the well-known curves and movements of her body and the specific timbre of her voice. He's missed…her. Liz. Being in her presence, and in her life. And the promise that used to exist between them when he was. A promise he used to think would fade. A promise Jack is now fully cognisant of as he never was before. A promise he wants to bring out of the dark and realize.

He pulls back, giving them both a moment to catch up. "So…I'm going to give you a minute. And then I'm going to do that again." He clears his throat to make his voice sound a little stronger. "So if you have any objections, now would be the time to raise them."

Still recovering, Liz sucks in a breath and gulps it down. Her brows twitch, attempting to conceal her incredulity. "…Objections?"

"Yes."

"I…"

Jack runs his hands up her arms, liking the feel of her body pressed against his, however it got there. "Yes?"

Her eyes roam down over his tuxedoed chest then flick up to his, still awash with uncertainty and shock. But she manages to stammer out: "I…I have an objection to waiting a whole minute."

Jack grins. "Well then…" And leans in.

It is at this moment that Brendan the possessive assistant chooses to stick his head around the door, coughing loudly, deliberately disturbing. "Excuse me, Liz? Sorry but…people are asking for you in here."

One hand flies up at her side but apart from this Liz does not budge. "Not now, okay? Just…not right now."

"I'm sorry," he whines: "But I have to remind you, you have that thing--!"

"Go away, Brendan!" she all but shouts without even a glance in his direction.

The door bumps shut as he disappears, leaving them alone again and entangled.

Liz licks her lips, gives a slight shrug. "I…I have a thing," she tells Jack after a moment.

"You have a thing?" he murmurs, smiling.

"Yeah..." She nods absently, eyes dropping to his mouth: "It's a…a…"

He lowers his voice to a rumble. "A thing?"

"Right," she mumbles. "You know how it is."

Jack nods, sliding both palms down her back and pressing her closer. "I know exactly how it is."

"I should really--"

"You really should."

She lifts her chin, inching closer: "Not right now though."

"No…" he whispers, tilting his head. "Definitely not right now."

The door creaks open again. "Um, Liz?"

"Augh!" She rounds on her assistant, her spine stiff and jaw clenched. "Seriously, Brendan! I'm having the best freeking moment of my life here! Could you not?" Liz whirls back as Brendan shrinks away from the doorframe, properly reprimanded. "Sorry…" she mutters, her expression chagrined and her hands balled into fists at her sides: "Sorry, Jack. I'm…jeez, I'm sorry."

Jack chuckles softly, takes a breath. "It's fine, Lemon, I ambushed you. Why don't you go do whatever you need to do, meet whomever you need to meet. Then what do you say we ditch this crowd and go grab us some real food?"

Her face splits into a wide, warm grin. "Yeah. I'd like that."

"After which…" he adds, stroking her hips with his fingertips: "I'm going to say four words to you that I've wanted to say for quite some time. Years, in fact."

Her hands touch down, tentative on his sleeves. "Which would be what?"

He pauses, leans in, eyes closing over briefly. "Your place or mine?"

Liz lets out a nervous laugh. "Oka-ay…well, thanks for the heads up, I guess." Her hands skate up to his shoulders and she watches their progress with a frankly proprietary relish. "So…I'm gonna go do my thing then," she says, making no move to leave his embrace.

"Whatever it is," he asks her, voice raspy: "could you do it fast?"

She smirks. "Believe me, I plan on it."

The door squeaks open. "Liz?" comes the familiar interruption.

She rolls her eyes, blowing some air through her lips. "Alright! Okay! I'm coming…" The door shuts again and Liz pulls away from him, her hips swinging furiously in her red dress as she heads across the stone terrace.

Jack hesitates only an instant before calling after her. "Of course, you realize I am in love with you."

Liz stops in her tracks, teeters in her heels then turns. She runs her fingers over her lips before she moves back toward him, drops her head against his chest and wraps her arms around his middle. She's silent a moment before muttering in a muffled voice: "I love the crap outta you too, Donaghy. I really do."

Jack plants a soft kiss in her hair. "That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard in my life."

She snorts, lifts her face. "It's true too."

He puts a hand on her cheek, smooths her hair back from her face, looking at her a moment. "God, have I missed you."

She grins, unable to disguise her delight. "Me too. You, I mean."

He kisses her once, softly, lips parted and both hands cupping her face. And this time he feels her respond. He feels her mouth comply and her body press closer. He feels the satisfaction of such a long-awaited and long-buried moment crash over the two of them at once. He feels a part of himself return, connect, revive. A part of her come home. And he feels something else commence, a new beginning begging to unfold.

Liz pulls back slowly, a twinkle in her eye. "So…if I walk away again now, are you going to say something else earth shattering?"

Jack cocks his head in thought. "Honestly, I was also thinking that your ass in that dress looks like a ripe plum I can't wait to take a juicy bite of. But I was gonna keep that thought to myself."

She half-smiles, half-frowns. "Yeah. That woulda been my choice." The frown part disappears and her voice softens as she slips out of his arms. "I'm gonna do this thing…" She backs toward the door, her expression turning impish as she adds: "But to answer your question--"

"Yes?"

"Yours."

He takes a step towards her, confused. "What?"

"When I'm done," she lifts her voice to tell him, one hand on the door: "let's go to your place. Okay?"

He nods in reply: "You got it!" and watches her slip through the door, with an irrepressible smile on her face and the color in her cheeks matching the crimson of her dress. Alone in the warm New York night air, Jack stuffs his hands in his tux pockets and starts to pace, eagerly awaiting her return.

"Now," he mutters to himself: "was that so very difficult?"

_END._


End file.
